Safety Brief
by volkova21
Summary: A non-magical meets magical AU. Hermione is a muggle supply specialist in the US Army who will meet a magical Fleur Delacour. Fleurmione
1. Chapter 1

Sorry guys, my muse has a bad case of ADD, also, I will try to be as accurate as I can without being tediously boring or within my range of knowledge. This is, to describe it as best I can, a magical/non-magical AU, in other words, Hermione is a muggle, and Fleur is still a quarter Veela. Also, Hermione is now American cause A) I can't portray the British military with much accuracy at all and B) it makes sense this way, based on my limited knowledge of the European educational system (my time as an exchange student) generally a second language commonly French is learned, whereas in the American educational system, there is rarely a language requirement or if there is, most of the time Spanish is the language due to our geographical location. Hermione is going to be stationed in Kaiserslautern Germany and not know any language other than English (which wouldn't make sense if she grew up needing multiple languages... hence the reason she's American for this one)

As a further aside, I will do my best to clarify things and use accurate terminology, however, my time in the military was spent as CBRN and Field Artillery, and Hermione is going to be Supply. And we all have our own slang and ways of doing things. Some of that will undoubtedly show through. The title refers to the set of instructions given every Friday before being released for the weekend, or before going on leave or pass or generally being away from leadership for more than 12 hours. The instructions are usually like, don't drink and drive, call a friend or leader for a ride, don't kill anyone or get killed, don't get married to the stripper, don't get arrested.

Lastly, I make no money, and these characters are not mine, I'm merely borrowing them.

* * *

"Granger!"

"Yes Sar'nt!" The brunette looked up from her desk where she'd been hunched over a stack of paperwork. Her hand had been starting to cramp as she wrote the same line over and over on each form. She'd written it nearly 50 times and knew that there was another 100 at least. She placed the shoddy government pen down on her desk, looking through the wire caging surrounding her towards the door.

A middle aged man in torn fatigues stood there, his cap and sunglasses in one hand, a travel mug in his other hand.

"Shit. You ain't done yet?" He questioned, a friendly half smile on his face as he swaggered over to her desk and threw down his cap.

"No, fuckin' computer went down, gotta do it by hand. Fuckin' hate COMET." Granger, a skinny soldier by any definition, leaned back in her chair, the old wood joints creaking as the weight changed, her uniform dwarfing her. She clasped her hands behind her head, her curly brown hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"Get used to it now, it'll never get better." The other soldier, his name tape reading Dean, took a long swig of his coffee, the dim light catching the grey at his temples making it shine a light silver.

"Anyways, good news Granger, Capt approved your leave. Just make sure this is all done before ya go," he gestured to the piles of paperwork on the desk, "I don't wanna have to finish it cause you're out bangin' some local girls." He stood from his chair and grabbed his stuff before walking off down the hall to his own equally unorganized desk.

Hermione cracked her knuckles before she hunched over her desk again, resuming her process of writing the same line another hundred times. She hated having to do the annual inventory. Every item had to be written up, checked and accounted for, its own individual slip completed fully. She was surrounded by gray bags each containing a gas mask, two extra filters, and one instruction manual (she hoped). Two hundred of them had been ordered despite the unite only having about 120 people. She'd been at it for a week and gotten the majority of the work done, having been assigned to the CBRN cage due to a lack of having a CBRN NCO to carry out their own tasks. Dean had been assigned the arms room, something she was envious of. Chemical equipment was, like usual, the least favorite to inventory and maintain. The majority of it couldn't be done by the operator and would have to be sent out (another stack of paperwork) if it didn't work. And what could be maintained, usually had residual OC spray in it from training.

The room itself, despite being a large open cage, had a definite peppery taste to the air. Despite the burn to her eyes, she had to constantly remind herself not to touch them, the residue on her hands would make it worse. She sighed to herself, knowing she'd have to wash this uniform at least three times to get it clean when she was done. She'd worn it all week just to ensure her others stayed clean. It was also her shittiest uniform, the knees had been torn on some barbed wire during training and the elbows were permanently stained with grass smears and the dark browns of mud puddles she'd swam through when a vengeful sergeant had decided to punish them for an earlier mistake. All in all, it wouldn't be much of a loss if she could never wear it again.

She couldn't help but smile, her leave was approved and starting next week she'd be on a train to Paris for the next two weeks. Sure, it was only about an eight-hour train ride off post, but it was Paris, a city she'd always wanted to see since she'd been a child. And somehow, she'd been lucky enough to get station in Germany for her first duty station. K-Town wasn't that bad she had to admit. Despite not knowing the local language, there were so many American soldiers there that she really hadn't needed to know anything but English. Honestly, she couldn't really tell that she wasn't in the U.S. anymore, the post of course looked like any other post, but the surrounding city that had existed had been Americanized when K-Town became one of the largest bases outside of the states.

Hermione had been there for a few months already, having arrived at the start of winter, now it was summer and she thought she could fully enjoy what Paris had to offer, and she'd familiarized herself with the trains and buses, something not too common where she was from. Public transit had never really caught on back at home like it had there.

She'd been so unsure of what she was doing when she arrived that she didn't go off post for the first couple of weeks until a few of the guys had invited her out to the bar one Friday night. She'd gone along and just followed them blindly, copying their actions and trying to not look afraid. Hell, she'd been shot at already and wasn't afraid of that but the subway, that was a different animal all together, and she wouldn't dare admit her fear of getting stranded to the guys. She'd never live that one down.

Zabini, another young private, though slightly more seasoned than her, walked into the room, "After formation a few of us are headed to a new bar. It's a bit of a trip from here though Lovegood said it's worth it, you comin' too?"

Hermione looked up from her paperwork, her eyes meeting Zabini's, he was standing there in a dark brown t-shirt tucked into pants that he liked to wear a little too loose, sagging low on his hips, a multi-tool proudly on display and a 550 cord bracelet in black and neon green around his left wrist. His tags were sticking out of his shirt, and she couldn't help but think he looked like a soup sandwich, but he did know how to have a good time. "Sure," she shrugged, "who all's goin'?"

"Who the fuck knows," he shrugged and walked off.

* * *

K-Town - Kaiserslautern

COMET- annual inspection done by the highest level of officer available, every item needs to be identified and accounted for

CBRN- Chemical, Biological, Radiological, Nuclear

think thats it...


	2. Chapter 2

Around 1645 everyone began to gather on the floor, forming small groups, talking and mulling about, drinks or phones in hand, making last minute weekend plans. They all knew what was coming, this inner sense that the work day was almost over, nobody wanted to be the last minute straggler to keep everyone waiting. The groups that formed were mostly based on MOS, supply, medical, commo, and S3 had formed their own circles while the engineers which made up the majority of the unit had formed their groups based on interests.

Everyone was back in a proper uniform, now that there was no excuse to be in some variation of it. Hermione, Zabini, Dean and Abbott had all circled up to solidify their plans for the night when Lovegood drifted over towards them away from the other medics. Granger had noted before that she seemed a little distant and not really the type to be an medic, but she was good at her job.

"Hey guys", she greeted airily, "we're leaving-"

A silence had fallen over the room and a lone voice shouted "Fall IN!" An older man stood there, in the center of the large room, PC on pulled low over his eyes, a stern look on his face, he was in his 50s, but still fit and despite his shorter stature, nobody in the unit would dare challenge him.

Everyone scrambled to center themselves on him, creating four straight rows of equal length, standing at attention, hands at their sides, feet forming a 90 degree angle with their heels together.

"At EASE!" He yelled, his voice a deep booming sound that echoed around the room as everyone shifted their position, hands snapping behind their backs and boots clicking on the floor as their feet spread a shoulder width apart.

First Sergeant Moody, or "Top" as most called him, began pacing back and forth in front of the formation. "Right, list up you dumb fucks," he paused, eyes scanning the crowd, "it's Friday. You know what that means. I don't want to hear from any of you or from the Captain til Monday. If I do, Monday will hurt you more than it hurts me. That being said, wear your seat belts, drive safe, don't drink and drive, and don't marry any prostitutes or strippers. If I gotta fix your mess we're gonna have problems. Any questions?"

"No Top!" came the roaring reply, everyone yelling the words together, eager to leave soon.

"Good. PT on Monday 0500, summer PTs, don't be late."

He paused his pacing, returning to the center and back to the position of attention, "Battalion attention!" He yelled, inflection on the last half of the word as hands returned to their sides and boots snapped back together.

"Dismissed!"

As soon as the word was out, the ranks of soldiers fell out of line, chatter breaking out among them. The majority there were still just boys, barely adults, barely having gotten to experience life or the real world before being sent halfway across the world, far away from their friends and family. They still had the eager glow of youth in their eyes and immature behavior, jumping on each other, pushing and shoving as they filed out the doors, ready to enjoy a well-earned weekend.

Granger headed back to the barracks with her section, aside from Dean. Being married had its perks, he had post housing, rather than a shared building. The young, single soldiers all lived in the barracks, a set up similar to a college dorm room, there was one or two room-mates, a small bathroom, and a single desk in each room.

The lifestyle was quite spartan, not needing a kitchen because there was a dining hall or DFAC that provided all their meals, a central community room with game tables and a TV in every building, and laundry facility. Soldiers could buy TVs or game consoles for their own room of course, but the Army provided only the bare minimum of what would be considered comfortable.

The walk wasn't too far, only a couple blocks and it was a nice summer day, however, none of them had checked the time, and they realized their mistake.

"Ah fuck," Zabini murmured as the group froze in place upon the first notes of the bugle call, going to attention and then raising their right hand in a salute. They stood there in place until Retreat had finished playing over the PA system. When it finished, they continued on, walking to the barracks. It wasn't a huge inconvenience, but when you wanted to go home, you didn't want to have to stop for some music to play.

It was like a right of passage, learning to avoid being outside when the calls would be played, knowing that if you were, you would have to freeze like a game of cat and mouse. Even being in a car wasn't safe. It was expected that if you were outside of a building you would salute.

They reached the barracks, Abbott and Zabini arguing about something inconsequential, Hermione had zoned out, much more focused on what she was going to do the next week with her leave approved.

The group split at the barracks, Hermione and Abbott going to the female barracks and Zabini to the males. They'd agreed to meet in two hours, giving them enough time to get ready before going to the train station. Hermione still couldn't believe that the train ride was going to be an hour before they arrived.

"The club had better be good," she muttered to Abbott, who somehow had also ended up as her room-mate. They headed to their room together, Hermione pulling out her key as they walked down the hallway, their boots clicking lightly on the white tile floor.

"It is, I've been there before, it's unlike anything back in the States," she smiled over at Hermione, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her hands reached up and long, nimble fingers quickly undid the tie, releasing waves of long hair. Her fingers rapidly brushed it out as she shook her head.

"Not sure if it was the bun or the paperwork that was giving me that headache, but damn I'm glad to be done."

Hermione agreed, pushing the door to their room open before mimicking the other girl's actions, long brown curls cascading down her back. "Dibs on the shower," she called, going to her closet to grab a towel. She had a light pink super fluffy bath towel hanging in her closet that she preferred to use over the scratchy army issued shit brown towel that she had to hang on the towel rack for inspections.

The warm spray of the shower beat down lightly on her skin, there was never enough pressure for her liking, but at least it was warm unlike her last duty station, the water there was never warm enough and felt like needles being driven into her skin. She would take a warm mist over that any day.

After her shower, she straightened her long brown mane, leaving the ends to curl slightly at her shoulders, she wore a tight black t-shirt and a pair of light blue low rise skinny jeans. She had curves and she knew it, wanting to show them off, it had been a long week and she was in dire need of some stress relief.

Abbott meanwhile, had also let her hair down, but she dressed in a black mini-skirt and white top that left her shoulders bare. A long necklace hung around her neck on a thin gold chain. Her makeup was light, accentuating her eyes and making her lips appear fuller.

Hermione smiled upon seeing how her room-mate looked and gave her a wolf-whistle, "Damn, I might just have to come home with you tonight," she winked at the other girl who just laughed.

"In your dreams Granger, I know you'll end up with someone else."

"At least you got Zabini and I to fight the guys off you."

The two left the room arm in arm to go meet the rest of the group outside in the makeshift courtyard. Zabini was already there waiting for them, a pair of grey skinny jeans and a V-neck shirt. A silver chain around his neck ended in a large cross and a cap on his head turned off to the side. His bracelet from earlier was still on his wrist.

He sat on a wooden bench at the table, hunched over his phone when the two girls walked up. The crunching of gravel under their feet alerted him to their presence. "Hey," he greeted softly, "Just waiting on a couple others." He turned back to his phone which had vibrated in his hands.

The two girls sat down on the bench next to him. The next to arrive were Lovegood and Malfoy then Krum and Jordan a couple minutes later before the group set off on their trek. Luna had not mentioned much about the bar except that it was unique, and worth the journey, but otherwise Hermione was still pretty lost about it all. However, when she arrived, she was amazed at it all. The club had four different individually themed clubs within it, and she couldn't help but hang out at the pirate ship bar in the middle. Zabini of course, had made his way to the tiki bar outside with the hot tub and half naked women.

Luna and Malfoy had gone to the modern themed club with glass and neon everywhere to try and make their way through the meter of vodka challenge, and Krum had stayed by her side. The two of them were in different units, and his English was rather broken, but on a past outing they had discovered they had a lot of things in common, especially their taste in women. And Hermione had to admit that they worked great as each other's wing man.

With the drinks flowing, it wasn't long until Hermione found herself pressed up against a blonde woman in a skinny dress and heels, running her hands up and down the other woman's body. The only time it didn't matter that she didn't speak a word of German. She hadn't been in country long enough to pick up anything despite being surrounded by it almost constantly. But when dancing and drinking, language didn't matter they weren't there for the conversation after all.

Soon after, she was on the receiving end of a sloppy, drunken kiss, firm hands running down her body, the taste of vodka on her lips. The night faded away into a blur as the blonde woman with her grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor.

* * *

Hermione woke up, the first rays of sunlight sneaking in through the window, shining in her face, she cracked her eyes open, observing her unfamiliar surroundings. She felt a surge of panic, sitting up in bed, realizing she was naked and there was an unfamiliar body next to her. She groaned, the throbbing of a hangover setting in. Blearily, she looked around the room, trying to locate her clothes without disturbing the body next to her.

She dressed quickly and snuck out without waking the other woman and noting it was still early, made her way to the train station. She wasn't sure where she was, all of her surroundings unfamiliar. With a little luck, she was able to find a train stop and she studied the map carefully, trying to make sense of it in the unfamiliar language. The top of the map said Kandel. "Where the fuck is Kandel? How did I get here?" she asked herself, running a hand through her messy bed head.

She looked at the map blankly for a moment before the throbbing in her head finally pushed her to stop, it's not like she was making any progress anyways before resigning herself to just getting on the next train and hoping it takes her to a place she recognized.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Oh forgot to mention, the club I described last chapter actually exists, I think near Karlsruhe? Its been like 8 years since I've been there and can't remember the name, but in actuality, it is rather popular for soldiers stationed in K-Town. Most anyone who has spent some time there can remember this awesome club that had a lot of different themes but not the name.

Also, a lot of the information/perceptions will be based on my own experiences in these countries, and while I do speak the languages, its funnier when there's miscommunication. however, that also means that some of the information may be wrong because its my experience as an American traveling abroad.

Fleur will be showing up soon too, I promise. Just need to find the right place for her to show up at... also, I suck at typing the French accent so... imagine that being present. And lastly, I realize that translation software will probably be more accurate than this, but I need it to convey a specific thing so, it will mess up appropriately. Speech in italics will be "French". Some may make sense, some may not due to "bad translations".

* * *

Hermione packed her bag, a black duffel which sat upon her neatly made bed. Her brown eyes scanned the room one last time, looking for anything essential she might have missed. Seeing nothing, she sighed quietly, bending over to grab the straps of her bag and sling it over her shoulders. She picked up her train ticket from the desk and made her way downstairs.

The last week had drug by, but they had successfully passed COMET and the hardest part of her year was done. She had a roughly planned out itinerary in her hands, but most of it was left open as she wasn't sure what all she would find to do in Paris. And she could always return later, it wasn't too long of a train ride after all.

She stopped at the Staff Duty desk by the doors and signed out on leave. The sergeant behind it sitting in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk and a magazine in hand. He barely glanced up at her as she signed out, only acknowledging her presence with a grunt. The irony of being free to go fight in wars and murder in the name of freedom but needing a babysitter 24/7. Accountability they called it. Lack of trust is what she called it. But shenanigans did often occur in the barracks. She chuckled as she remembered last weeks floor buffer rodeo. Or the jousting match the week before. That had been entertaining to say the least.

Two privates had been in full battle rattle and wielded a broom under their arm. They were wheeled towards each other in a rolling chair by two other privates as fast as they could manage. The one to stay upright won. Three brooms selflessly gave their lives that day.

Hermione put her earbuds in and made her way to the train station. She still had some time before it came but she preferred to be early, something the Army had instilled in her, 10 minutes early was on time if not late.

When the train arrived, Hermione made her way up the stairs and towards her seat, stowing her duffel on the metal rack near the doors. She had a thick book in her hands and her headphones were blasting rock music. A tight black band t-shirt and medium wash blue jeans once again showed off her curves. This time however, she sported a thick leather bracelet and studded belt. She was going for more of a punk look today and her curly brown hair had been straightened and flowed loosely down her back, looking slightly messy. Her body had become more defined with her time in the military, regular workouts helped her put on quite a bit of muscle and she definitely looked more toned than she had back in high school when she was just the nerd in the back.

She had managed to come into her own, and knew she looked good, having gained quite a bit of confidence, she knew how to command attention now, and while it had made her uncomfortable at first, she had realized she enjoyed it, women seemed to be drawn to someone in control.

Hermione took a seat by the window, watching the people on the platform come and go, all walking with a destination in mind, barely taking in their surroundings. Some however, with larger suitcases looked around in wonder, amazed by their surroundings, as if everything was entirely foreign, and she supposed it might be to them.

A whistle sounded in the distance, and within a couple of minutes the train was slowly lumbering out of its spot, moving along, gaining speed as it crept until the view outside was a blur. The car swayed to and fro in a soothing motion, the clacking of the tracks underneath interrupted only once in a while with a jarring turn or uneven ground. She had quickly grown used to the movement, finding it brought an enjoyable kind of peace she had not found back at home. The experience was rather relaxing, and she slouched down in her seat, propping her book open and began to read, settling in for a long journey.

Hours later, a whistle sounded and the train slowed to a stop, pulling into a station, green metal arches curved around the tracks while the roof was made of clear glass. Birds chirped noisily in the covered station as Hermione stepped off the train, her duffel once again on her back.

She made her way to the exit, taking in the scenery, noting a definite difference in architecture between that of the German town surrounding the post and Paris, despite the two being relatively close geographically. She walked down the stairs of the station and found a cab to take her to her hotel. She was eager to explore the city, but wanted to do so without her luggage, and as her stomach rumbled loudly, maybe she'd find some dinner too. It was now early evening and she hadn't eaten since breakfast before she left that morning.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the hotel, onto the cobblestone sidewalk, she paused, looking both ways down the street, trying to decide which way to go first before she turned to the left deciding that direction looked more promising. She repeated her actions at every intersection, taking the direction that looked more interesting each time as she had no specific destination in mind and wanted to familiarize herself with the area she was staying in.

She finally stopped at a small cafe, two giant open windows and a small dark green awning greeting her. She stepped inside, drawn in by the delicious aroma wafting out of the kitchen. The clinking of dishes and the subtle music playing filled the cafe.

The brunette was led to a small table along the wall and handed a menu by a young man in black pants, white shirt, and a clean white apron tied around his waist. Hermione looked down at the menu and froze, realizing it was all in French and she couldn't understand any of it. She studied it carefully, trying to see if she could make out any of the words, if anything looked a bit familiar. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she couldn't figure out much other than a couple items had cheese, and a couple of others were on croissants. Or maybe they came with them? She wasn't entirely sure, but the word was there, and she knew that much.

The waiter must have seen her confusion and walked back over to her, asking with a thick French accent, "Do you need an English menu?"

An embarrassed look passed over her features as she nodded shyly and he handed her an English version of the same menu. Much to her relief, the rest of the meal went without a problem, she ended up ordering pork chops in a cranberry sauce which she greatly enjoyed.

However, she soon realized her earlier mistake when she stepped back out into the warm night air. A light breeze blew her hair and she looked about, remembering which direction she came from, she headed to the right, but at the next intersection she was unable to remember her path.

She stood there, looking back and forth for a minute, starting tentatively down one way and then upon not recognizing anything, heading back, thinking she'd gone the wrong way. But none of the paths panned out for her, nothing looked familiar, and without knowing the language, none of the signs stood out to her.

Hermione spied a slender blonde beauty walking towards her across the street. There were few people out at this time, the streets mostly vacant, and this woman appeared to be about her age and well dressed. Hermione reasoned that she wouldn't be at risk of being robbed by her when the other woman would inevitably realize she was a clueless foreigner.

She gathered what courage she could before crossing the street, hoping to catch the blonde before she disappeared and her opportunity was lost. Hopefully she spoke English.

"Excuse me."

The blonde stopped and turned towards her, light blue eyes shining in the dark. Her pale features had hidden her true beauty with distance, but up close she was really quite stunning.

 _"Yes?"_

Hermione froze, gathering herself quickly, "Uh, do you speak English?"

The other woman looked at her with sad eyes, shaking her head no. Hermione thought for a moment, then holding up a finger, reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, remembering she had installed a translation app when she'd first arrived in Europe, but hadn't ever actually needed to use it luckily.

She spoke into her phone like the app instructed, having selected the language to translate to as French, "Can you help me find my hotel?"

 _"Will you come to my hotel?_ _"_ The phone spoke as Hermione stood there dumbly, an embarrassed smile on her face.

An indignant look crossed the blonde's face as she slapped Hermione across the face, _"I am not a prostitute!"_

The phone spoke next, "I am not a prostitute."

Hermione looked down, eyes wide, she really should have tried this out sooner to make sure it worked. "No! No! I'm lost, I don't know how to get back." She waved her hands at the blonde, gesturing wildly as she talked hoping to convey the message and not offend her any further.

The blonde grabbed her hand as the phone jabbered away, neither listening to it, and pulled her into a nearby shop, the one she had come from earlier to be precise.

She spoke quickly to the woman behind the counter before stepping to the side and waving her hand between Hermione and the other woman. Hermione looked like a deer caught in headlights still, not wanting a repeat of the last time, and not sure if the woman spoke English.

"D-do you speak English?"

The woman smiled and nodded at her while the blonde stood back and watched their interactions. Hermione quickly explained what had happened to her and that she needed to get back to her hotel. The other woman relayed it to the blonde and, upon finding out the name of the hotel, the blonde smiled and thanked the woman behind the counter before pulled Hermione back out of the shop and into the street.

They set off at a rapid pace, Hermione being drug along as the woman turned down different streets without pause. Hermione secretly wondered if she was being kidnapped or would be murdered, but then realized if that was the case the blonde wouldn't have taken her to speak with the other woman.

Their pace slowed after a couple blocks and the blonde let go of Hermione. The silence between them was suffocating almost as Hermione knew she had travelled quite a distance earlier and this woman was being way more helpful than she had expected. She attempted to try starting up a conversation, unsure of how useful her phone would be.

She figured the best place to start would be with names. "My name's Hermione, what's yours?"

The blonde paused and looked at her, waiting for the phone to translate. And when it did, she smiled and replied "Fleur."

The two of them both laughed however when the phone then translated Fleur's name, speaking in its digital voice, "Flower".


	4. Chapter 4

Yay fluff :) and I still suck at the French accent. oh and best way I can think of putting this is, it should be apparent this chapter that something is off with Fleur. She is still part Veela and thus very much aware of a magical world, but Hermione is obviously not part of it. Not sure if I'm gonna do another mate thing or if it'll be a choice to be together. Suggestions?

* * *

Hermione and Fleur walked along, a broken conversation happening. Hermione gestured wildly as she tried to get information from the blonde woman. She loved the sound of the other woman's voice, a strange sort of comfort, its low rumble sending chills down her spine. And she had to admit, the French language had never sounded as sexy as it did on her newfound companion. She wanted their trek to take longer than she knew it undoubtedly would as that was how things normally went. The long solo walk would inevitably be only a couple blocks now that she enjoyed her company.

She fell into silence, trying to figure out a way to see her again, but had not come up with much when they arrived back at her hotel, she thanked the blonde with a sad smile. As Fleur turned to leave, the wind blowing her hair slightly as the street lamps began to illuminate, casting a gentle glow and long shadows down the hand laid pathway, Hermione panicked and called her name, not wanting to let her go so easily.

She turned back, a shy smile playing on her features and Hermione felt her breath catch. She pulled out her phone once again, asking "Can I buy you a coffee or something as thanks?"

 _"Can I buy you for a coffee?"_ the digitized voice spoke, as Hermione stood there with a dumb smile on her face, once again forced to rely on technology and having to suffer through the awkward silences it created.

Fleur chuckled, _"No, but you can buy me dinner first."_ She winked as she finished her sentence and the phone began to translate. She took the piece of technology from Hermione's hand and entered her number quickly before offering the device back to its owner.

"Fuck" Hermione muttered under her breath, seeing the beautiful woman's number staring up at her from her phone. She hadn't realized that the app was still working even though it wasn't displayed.

 _"Fuck"_ it translated, the voice, unable to differentiate between a statement and a question, repeated, finally getting something right.

Fleur, in a moment of bravery, and a desire to tease the foreign woman she had drug around the city, simply responded with "Zat 'appens after dinner," and a wink as she turned and walked away.

Hermione's jaw dropped, not expecting an English response. She stood there, frozen as she wondered if the woman had understood her all along and was simply messing with her mind. But a huge smile soon crossed her face as she fist pumped the air and began dancing away, not caring if anyone saw her. She had a date with a hot French woman and she might be getting lucky if that last statement was anything to go off of.

She looked down at the number glowing up at her from her phone screen and smiled to herself, fighting the urge to immediately text her so she wouldn't appear too desperate. She turned and walked into the hotel, going up to her room. Maybe this trip would be better than she had imagined.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning, wrapped up in a cocoon of white linen, brown locks flowing wildly, having returned to their natural curly state. The same goofy smile from the night before was still plastered upon her face (and maybe a slight trail of dried drool with it).

She reached for her phone and without a second thought, quickly typed out a message to her guide from the previous night.

"Would I be able to convince you to show me around the city today?"

A couple minutes later she received a reply, her phone vibrating happily from the night stand it rested on. She swiped her thumb over the screen, revealing the message.

"I suppose I might have some free time today." An address and time followed. It seemed she liked to take control. Images began to run through Hermione's mind at the thought of Fleur taking control and she lost herself in the fantasy for a moment before realizing that the time given was in an hour and she had no idea where the address was, and maybe more importantly, she had yet to get dressed.

She shook her head, trying to erase such images from her mind as she quickly scrambled around the room to find the right clothes for the day. She hadn't planned on trying to impress anyone and had brought comfortable clothes mostly. Hermione had secretly been looking forward to the opportunity to slip back into her punk days.

Hermione ran to the cafe door an hour later, breathing hard and hoping the blonde was still waiting for her. She'd gotten on the subway like the front desk employee had said, only to discover it was going the wrong way which had taken an extra 10 minutes she hadn't had. Her watch ticked to 10:07am. She was 7 minutes late, and panic rose in her chest as her eyes scanned the mostly vacant cafe, looking for a familiar blonde.

The young woman felt relief flood her senses upon spotting her friendly tour guide sitting at a table, staring absently out the window, a cup of coffee in front of her resting on the white linen table cloth. Her chin rested in her hand as her other hand played with the handle of the cup, turning it back and forth on its saucer.

Hermione quickly attempted to fix her appearance and even out her breathing. She was wearing a black Marilyn Manson shirt and ripped dark gray jeans with a pair of converse high tops. Walking confidently towards Fleur, she pulled out the chair opposite her, and plopped down, surprising the other woman who had been lost in her thoughts.

Leaning back in her chair, a cocky smirk plastered upon her face, she spoke with a confidence she had been lacking the previous night. "So you do speak English?"

She wasn't expect the response, a mischievous grin, "Who doesn't?"

The other woman spoke with a thick French accent, something Hermione found herself unable to get enough of. "So why did you pretend last night?"

The question was out before she could stop herself from asking it. A silence hung between them as the blonde pondered how to answer, she eventually settled on a shrug. "Why not? It was funny watching you struggle."

Hermione pretended to pout for a second, jutting out her bottom lip, "You're mean," she said sulkily.

"And yet, you're still here."

"Should I be offended by that?"

"That depends on you," Fleur stated, then changed topics quickly, not giving Hermione any more time to ponder that, "So, what brings you to Paris?"

"Just here on vacation," she'd been warned before she left not to say too much. Sure Paris was a big city, but with the recent string of terror attacks in the country, she couldn't assume she wasn't in danger. Everyone had been warned not to say too much about what they did so as to avoid being a target. It really didn't help that the Pentagon had been hacked and ISIS had been making threats against higher ranking soldiers or those they thought they could crack. Everyone was at risk and while Fleur didn't look like a terrorist, she couldn't be sure.

She took in Fleur's mostly empty cup, and leaned forward in her seat, "I'm gonna get a cappuccino, can I get you anything?"

"A cafe au lait please."

Hermione nodded and took off to the bar to order. Her mind was swimming with how much should she trust the blonde. She didn't really think she'd find herself in this situation, having planned on keeping mostly to herself. But the French woman was rather attractive, and Hermione was positive she had been flirting the night before.

The two cups were placed in front of her a moment later and she grabbed them before returning to the table where Fleur sat waiting for her, having resumed staring out the window.

She smiled when Hermione approached, thanking her for the coffee and returning to her interrogation. "'ow long are you 'ere for?"

"A week."

"And zen where will you go?"

"Back home."

"If you don't mind me asking, where iz 'ome?"

"Germany."

Fleur paused, a questioning look, "But you don't sound German?"

Hermione chuckled, "No, I'm not. I'm American."

"Zen, what are you doing in Germany?"

"I'm working here temporarily."

"What kind of work do you do?"

"Right now, inventory and light equipment maintenance. What about you? You're asking a lot of questions, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Zere iz not much to tell, I'm afraid. My life iz razer boring."

"Surely it's not that boring. You must have some interests or hobbies or work?"

"Oui, my muzzer expects zat I take over ze familie buziness when ze retirez. Ze 'as done nuzzing but prepare me for zis task zince I waz a child." Her accent grew stronger as she began to speak passionately about the topic. Hermione smiled and nodded along, having difficulty understanding her completely, and hearing more French words slip through. She gathered that Fleur did not want to take over the family business, whatever it was, but it was expected of her, and would not be passed on to her younger sister, who despite being only a couple years younger still acted like a child.

Hermione saw a passion burning in bright blue eyes, intense in their gaze, drawing her in as they threatened to burn her. She was enraptured and leaned in closer to the table, unable to pull her eyes away from the other woman as she spoke animatedly. At a few different points, she would swear she saw the other woman's eyes glow, but that was impossible she told herself, the light must just be reflecting off of them, or maybe it was because they really were just such a unique shade of silvery blue... Yes, that was it, her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.

"Oh zorry, I did not mean to..." Fleur trailed off, embarrassment poking through her voice, she didn't finish that sentence, unsure how, of what she could say.

"How about we get outta here? You can show me around the city and forget about doing what other's expect hm?"

Fleur nodded, a smile spreading across her face as Hermione stood from her seat and, in a moment of reckless bravery, she extended her hand towards the blonde, fingers outstretched, a shy smile spreading into a sweeping grin as her fingers found purchase in the warm hand of the other.

They walked out of the cafe together, hand in hand, two acquaintances on the path to becoming more.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione smiled back at Fleur, enjoying the warm summer sun shining down on them. The day wasn't unpleasantly hot, though it was warmer than normal, it would have been the perfect day to go to the beach if they had been further south. But as it was, Hermione was able to enjoy it with Fleur.

They meandered along the cobblestone sidewalks, Hermione taking in her surroundings, looking ever so child-like as she studied every little detail, amazed at the simple beauty of the city. Fleur talked animatedly as they walked, enjoying the ability to share her city with someone. There were lots of people there, but they all hurried from place to place, eyes cast downward, hands shoved in their pockets, they didn't see the city, not like she did. They didn't know the stories, the history, not like her.

This was her city, her home, and it was part of her. She spoke with passion, captivating Hermione, leaving her in awe, she was a force to be reckoned with. Unwavering in devotion, she regaled the brunette with tales of her childhood, running through the streets with her younger sister, the bakery just ahead was run by the nicest couple. The two girls would stop there in the summer and the old woman behind the counter would give them each a cookie. Fleur would argue they were the best cookies too, warm and gooey, fresh from the oven. And then they would be off, there had been a park around the corner, they spent much of their time at. She loved moving the giant chess pieces around the board painted on the ground. They were nearly as big as her back then, and sometimes they'd feed the pigeons there.

She laughed wholeheartedly, recounting the time her sister had fallen in the pond in that park. She'd seen a turtle and wanted to catch it when it slid off of its perch- a log that had gone adrift. Gabrielle had been positive she could reach it, standing on the tips of her toes as she leaned forward, stretching as far as she could, her fingertips had grazed the water softened wood when she lost her balance and fell in with a splash. Their mother had greeted them with a stern look, chastising the girls for getting dirty and trekking mud through her house.

As they passed the street that had held the park, Hermione's gaze drifted down it, looking for a hint of the park, but she saw no signs of it. There was now a rather large market, the structure itself looking as though it had been there for years. Puzzled, Hermione looked back at the blonde who looked to be about her age, and decided she simply had to have misunderstood the blonde, or overestimated the age of the market.

* * *

The days had passed quite quickly, Hermione had managed to spend the majority of her vacation in the company of the other woman. Friday night had arrived, and she wanted to experience the Parisian night life before she had to return home in a couple days. Despite the flirty nature of their encounters, nothing had yet happened between them (aside from some brief hand holding). Hermione was mentally berating herself, she normally wasn't so shy, but there was something about the blonde that made her nervous.

She wasn't afraid of the blonde, or scared to make a move, normally she would have already made an attempt at bedding the woman. Fleur had been giving her all the signs she'd be successful too, but she felt more like she was the one being hunted rather than the hunter she usually was. She felt out of her element to say the least.

They had made plans to go to a bar that night though, and Hermione was determined to look her best, she had decided she was going to make her move. She'd put on a simple suit, hugging her curves in all the right places, accentuating her features nicely, she wore light makeup, never having been a huge fan of the stuff. She knew she looked good, her muscles were toned nicely and had just the right amount of definition to them. The military had done wonders for her. She admired herself in the mirror, finishing up her preparations, making sure everything was just right before she grabbed her wallet and room key and headed out.

She'd managed to arrive to the bar early, having figured out the subway system and not gotten lost after the first day. Though, she had to admit, she had quite the teacher, the blonde had managed to teach her a lot about the city and though she was a foreigner, she didn't feel as such, blending in with the locals, walking to and fro as though it was her home.

Hermione was still amazed by the city's architecture, a history book come alive, she couldn't believe how each section of the city had its own style, how the age could be seen just passing by. She loved the older parts of the city without a doubt. It was unlike anything she'd seen before, nothing in the States could compare, Paris itself having existed longer than her home country.

The brunette smiled as a familiar blonde sidled up next to her, taking the empty stool to her right. She ordered them both a couple of drinks in French and the bartender complied. The bar was filled with softly playing music and dim lights as a dull roar of conversations echoed around them in a variety of languages. Hermione didn't think she'd ever get used to that, having grown up hearing one or two languages at best, it was alien to be here and hear five or six in a single place.

"So, you're leaving soon aren't you?"

Hermione nodded, her hand slipping around the glass as she brought it to her lips. She wasn't sure what the drink was, but she felt the familiar burn of alcohol sliding down her throat. Warmth rushed to her cheeks soon after, coloring them slightly. She pretended to ignore the blonde moving closer to her, invading her space and filling her senses.

"Back to Germany?"

"Yeah." She finished her drink and asked for another, still hunched over the bar. She sat back feeling a soft hand on her shoulder, honeyed eyes meeting cerulean.

"Just because you're leaving doesn't mean we can't talk anymore." A somber mood falling over the two women. The bartender placed another couple of glasses filled with the same unknown drink.

"True. I keep forgetting it's not that far, I'm used to it being half a world away. Actually, I um, I wanted to ask, if maybe you would want to go on a date? I meant to ask sooner but, I kept chickening out." Hermione ducked her head at the last admission, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks.

"I would love to. 'ow about next time zough, you show me your city?"

Hermione nodded, feeling braver about having to tell Fleur she was here as a soldier, knowing that the other woman obviously wanted to see her again. They talked in relative ease, ignoring that soon Hermione would be leaving and their daily activities would have to come to a stop.

Around midnight the bartender had to kick them out, it was time to go somewhere else. They'd only had a couple drinks over the hours that they were there and were still almost completely sober. Fleur grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her quickly down the sidewalk, "I want to show you somezing before you leave." They turned a corner and Fleur pointed down the street, off in the distance Hermione could make out the shape of the Eiffel Tower, shining brightly as a dazzling lightshow played up and down its beams.

Fireworks glittered, illuminating the sky and Hermione gasped at such a gorgeous display and the two slowed their pace, enjoying a leisurely stroll, continuing their approach. "It only does this on Friday and Saturday at midnight. I've waited all week to show you."

Hermione stopped walking and turned to Fleur, feeling possessed by some inexplicable force, a voice whispering in her ear, pulling her closer, her hand drifting upwards, coming to rest on the blonde's cheek as she leaned forward, her lips parting slightly. The electric spark she felt between them unlike anything she had ever felt before as soft skin collided, meeting tenderly, nervously, exploring as new territory was crossed, wanting to delve deeper but afraid of crossing a line as too many lines were crossed unable to take a step back.

Time froze, time began slipping by, seconds marching forward, a creaking, groaning of metal breaking free, trapped for too long. Fleur gasped, a new hunger being awoken in her as she pushed onward, unwilling to let go of the brunette. She did so reluctantly, holding back a quiet whimper at the loss of warmth.

* * *

Hermione returned back to post Sunday night, sadness filling her, she wished she was on leave still. It was meant to be a quick break, but she'd found so much more than she'd ever intended, her mind still replaying the kiss from Friday night. She hadn't been able to see Fleur again before she left. They'd continued walking the streets of Paris that night following their kiss, unwilling to part.

Fleur had had to leave town the next morning, a weekly family dinner she had said. Their home was outside of Paris requiring her to travel and she would not be back until Sunday. As a result, the brunette had been left to wander the now somewhat familiar city, sticking to the more touristy areas where she was more likely to find other English speakers, and she silently vowed to herself to start taking language lessons when she got back.

It had been, as a result, a pretty quiet day where she was left to her thoughts, she'd smiled at the memories of the Louvre, the Catacombs, walking around the gardens at Versailles among the other activities that they'd done. She'd taken lots of photos, some secretly containing the blonde.

She had yet to tell the other woman why she was actually in Germany, or anything more specific about her, and when she thought about it, she really didn't know much about Fleur either, just that she was some wealthy heiress who was going to run the family business someday (what that business was she didn't know). But the two had enjoyed each others' company, sharing many interests and easy conversation. It was relaxing, she hadn't even realized the amount of tension she had in her body until she was free of it.

Hermione had stomped up to her room, her duffel slung over her back, only stopping at the CQ desk to sign back in from pass. She'd slid her key into her door and pushed it open with a depressed sigh, the desolate look of her room bringing an unwelcome, empty feeling back to her. She threw her bag down on her bed and began to put away her clothes and prepare for the early morning to come. Abbott, laying on her bed, looked up from her book, raising an eyebrow, "Not happy to be back?" she teased.

"Something like that."

She sat up, putting her book aside, "So, how was it?" She had yet to make it to Paris, instead preferring to blow her meager income at the bars on the weekends, and on a fancy car as many young privates did. Hermione hadn't seen the point of such an investment, there was so much public transit available, she could use the money to save up for something else.

Hermione sat down on her bed and began to tell her blonde friend about her week in Paris, trying not to mention the friend she had made. She wasn't in the mood to be teased just yet, and really, not much had happened between them, she wasn't one to kiss and tell too. Or so she told herself, nevermind that she normally enjoyed bragging about her conquests being almost as bad as one of the guys.

But Fleur, she told herself, was different.

* * *

CQ is charge of quarters. I don't think I explained that last time it popped up. Or maybe I did? It's a Sergeant or above that gets put on duty for a 24 hour period of time to sit at a desk and have people sign in and out of the barracks. its to prevent unauthorized people from being snuck in or too much crazy stuff from happening.


	6. Chapter 6

man, its been a while... so, here's this... :)

* * *

Monday morning rolled around too soon for Hermione who slammed a sleepy hand down on her blaring alarm clock. She groaned aloud as she lifted her head off her pillow, locks of curly brown hair falling in her face. She blew them out of her eyes as best she could before her head dropped back to her pillow.

Footsteps padded along the tile floor before lights suddenly came on, filling the room with a yellowish glow. "Come on sleepyhead," her roommate spoke in a voice much too cheery for the early hour. Hermione grabbed her pillow roughly and threw it in the direction of the voice before succumbing to a massive weight before her blankets were ripped off her bed.

She groaned once more, before slowly pushing herself off her mattress, the red lines on her alarm clock glaring, 4:33. The two women dressed in silence, changing into their PT gear, black and yellow shorts and shirt. Hermione quickly pulled her messy locks back into a ponytail before slipping her feet into a pair of tennis shoes.

"Ready?" she looked over at Hannah, who was pulling the sheets on her bunk tight, smoothing out a couple wrinkles.

Hannah stood up straight, admiring her work, before grabbing her water bottle and heading towards the door, "Yeah, let's go."

The two females headed out, pulling the door tight behind them and walking down the hallway, their shoes clicking lightly on the blue tile floor. The walls were mostly a pristine white, though there were areas where the paint had chipped, or been peeled off revealing a multitude of colors beneath. Patches of green, red, blue, yellow peeked out from various bricks, Hermione was sure that if all the paint would be removed the hallways would be at least two inches wider.

They opened the door at the end of the hallway, stepping out into a glass enclosure, the tile had given way to bare cement, their shoes now clicked louder and echoed in the small space as the descended the stairs, one dim light shone, housed in a yellowed plastic container, barely illuminating the space. They hurried down the stairs, being met with others from their unit headed out for PT, sleep still in their eyes.

Everyone was silent, a collective agreement that it was too early for this as they lined up in formation just outside the building. The training area was down the street yet but post regulations stated that any and all groups of three or more were to march in formation.

And so they waited, in a haphazard formation, until everyone from the barracks was with them. Those lucky enough to live in post housing with their families would meet them at the field individually.

Finally, when the entire group was present, the most senior among them, a sergeant who had just arrived and hadn't yet secured his own housing, took control of the group.

He centered himself and went to the position of attention before shouting his commands, "Group, attenTION!" They snapped to position, their shoulders rigid and hands at their sides, the only sound a clicking of heels on cement, he gave his next command, "Right FACE!" Another snap of heels as everyone turned at once. "Forward MARCH!"

And they stepped off as a group, right foot first, they made their way down the street towards the training field where they met up with the others. As the last rank stepped onto the grass, they began to mark time before halting as a unit, the newcomers joining their ranks as the others performed a left face.

The First Sergeant took command of the unit from the Sergeant who had led them down from the barracks, a salute between the two of them, they were once again called to attention before being directed into a PT formation, on the command Extend to the Left, the group raised their arms and let out an "Ahhhhh" in unison until the last person stopped moving, and they were directed to put their arms down, the distance between them was now a double arm interval. They did this once again as they were directed to face to the right and extend. Then the four columns were directed to count off before the even numbers could uncover, or take a step to the left.

They proceeded to stretch as a group, led through the different exercises before being told to form up again. Hermione groaned internally as this meant they would be doing a group run. There were three different routes they could take, and after her week of no PT, she really wished they'd go left and take the easy route, the other two were to the right and one was a long run on mostly flat terrain while the other wound its way through the hills, taking a scenic route. If they went left, they'd stay on the streets, making their way through the post briefly before returning to the field to cool down.

Upon being guided to the right in formation, she mentally cursed her luck. "Double time, MARCH!" Top yelled and the unit took off at a light jog, the guidon bearer running five steps ahead of the formation, flag held proudly across his body. Hermione did not envy him one bit, having to carry that flag everywhere was not her idea of a good time.

Moody began to call out, "LMTV Rollin' down the strip!"

The formation echoed.

"64 Legs on a one way trip!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile, this was one of her favorites.

"Mission top secret destination unkown!"

"Don't even care if they make it back home!"

Despite their push against suicide, they never avoided talking about death and the likelihood of dying in battle. They continued on, running down the streets, past a few other units, each calling their own cadences. Everyone yelled as loudly as they could, trying to best the others, the post was a cacophony every morning as each unit competed, screams could be heard from a distance as it was a matter of pride.

They continued on, moving seamlessly between cadences, "Mama, mama, can't you see what the army's done to me?"

They rounded a corner, reaching the home stretch, the miles had passed them by and every member of the unit had a nice shine to their skin, a thin coating of sweat trailing down their bodies. "My girl's a vegetable! She lives in a hospital!" They called out, getting their second wind. The morning dew soaked grass was just up ahead.

Their cool down stretches passed quickly before they were released for breakfast and personal hygiene. It was now almost 7 a.m. and the sun had risen, its tendrils of light had begun to illuminate their run, bringing with it an energy and readiness for the day ahead.

Hermione and Hannah went back to their room, hoping to beat Reveille, which would sound at 7 a.m. They had just made it to the door of their barracks when the bugle call began to sound. Hermione closed her eyes briefly, mentally cursing her luck once again as she snapped to attention and presented a salute in the direction of the music.

Hannah stood safely inside of the barracks, a shit eating grin across her face.

She opened the door for Hermione once the music stopped. Hermione's stomach grumbled loudly as the pair ran up the stairs and back to their room, wanting to head to breakfast as quickly as possible, the good stuff would be gone soon and they'd be left with the remnants of yesterday's meal. But neither woman could eat while dripping sweat and smelling themselves. They quickly showered and changed into uniform before once again taking off, this time towards the chow hall.

The pair sat across from each other at the table, their trays piled high, cups of coffee in hand, the news playing in the background. Conversation passing between the two, now no longer in a rush as they had another 30 minutes before they were expected to be at the motorpool. Hermione pulled out her phone as she absentmindedly chewed on a piece of toast, a smile spreading across her face when she saw she had a text from Fleur. It was simple, only saying good morning, but the fact that she had gotten a text from the beautiful blonde was what really mattered.

She eagerly texted back her own reply, asking what the French woman was doing up so early. When she looked up from her phone, she saw Hannah staring at her unabashedly, a questioning look on her face, "Who you textin' so early in the morning?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, nobody," Hermione answered quickly, placing her phone down on the table and turning off the screen. She looked away trying to hide her blush, and regain control of her features. The other blonde took this opportunity to try and grab Hermione's phone, which she nearly did successfully, leading to the two of them fighting over possession of the rectangular object, a volley of "Give it back" and "No" between the two.

Hannah laughing uncontrollably as she fought to maintain control of the device, Hermione standing up from her seat, reaching over the table as her fingers continued to be repelled. Finally, with a huff she sat back, crossing her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes. The petite blonde, grinning with victory, leaned back in her chair, unlocking the device, eager to see what it was that made Hermione act like a lovesick teenager.

"Ooooh, Fleur" she said in a sing-songy voice, reminiscent of an older sibling saying she was going to tell mom, "someone's found themselves a pretentious French woman," she teased causing Hermione's blush to once again appear as the brunette sat, pouting in her chair.

Hannah leaned forward conspiratorially, her voice taking on a serious tone, barely above a whisper, "She good in bed?"

Hermione faked offense at being asked such a question and playfully reached across to slap Hannah's shoulder before turning serious, "I wouldn't know."

Hannah scoffed, rolling her eyes and throwing the phone back towards Hermione, it bounched on the table, its rubber case absorbing the impact, "You're no fun."

Hermione grabbed her phone and pocketed it as the two stood and grabbed their trays. It was time to head for the motorpool.

Their boots crunched under the gravel that covered the motorpool, vehicles lined up perfectly, uniform distance between them. A chain link fence topped with barbed wire circled the lot. A sergeant stood at the gate, clipboard and stack of paperwork in hand, giving a couple papers to each person to walk through. Every vehicle the unit owned was stored in this lot, and each needed to be inspected. Every Monday, the unit had to inspect every vehicle for any issue, though most of the vehicles hadn't even moved from the previous inspection. They could get through the PMCS fast enough, but it was expected to take an hour per vehicle. This meant that most of the privates stood around, joking, talking, playing games with each other, hands in their pockets until the day was up.

It was really a skill, to do nothing and make it look like something was happening every time one of the higher ups passed by. Hermione sat behind the wheel of a HMMWV, playing on her phone and adjusting the lights every so often, the manual open in the passenger seat next to her.

Hannah lounged across the back seat, PC covering her face, relying on Hermione to alert her to any formation or appearance of rank. When they switched vehicles, their roles would be reversed, they'd worked this system out months ago, using the free time to catch up on some needed sleep.

A few of the guys had popped the hoods of a few different vehicles and played keep away with a poor private's PC. He'd made the mistake of taking it off before sliding under a truck to inspect it for leaks. He jumped around haplessly in the middle of the group.

Hermione laughed and thought he'd learn soon enough before returning her focus to her phone, she'd been busy texting Fleur all morning, their conversation harmless enough. She didn't dare go into specifics yet, instead preferring to ask Fleur questions about herself, her family, what her day was like when she wasn't showing around hapless foreigners.

* * *

If the PT formation commands sound stupid, its cause it is. And every unit I've been in makes everyone scream "AHHHHH" as we all run sideways with our arms out. If you need a visual, sadly screaming as they move, but this is the formation: watch?v=2KdyljqBrmg&t=34s

And I've also described barracks I actually stayed in so, not an exaggeration, I once counted 8 different layers of paint for one section of wall and cannot verify if that was all the paint on it or if nobody had made it through to the next layer.

Regular march is 120, 30 inch steps per minute while a double time march is 180 steps per minute forcing it to be a light jog. Anytime an actual run happens its not in formation, a double time march is generally the fastest "running" speed that will happen as not everyone has the same speed.

Oh and, Hermione and Hannah will go pretty much everywhere together as (I'm not sure about foreign countries exactly) the army has this thing called battle buddies, which kinda is a joke in and of itself, but essentially soldiers have to have a friend with them to go anywhere, generally this rule is dropped inside of unit buildings but to travel between buildings or off post except for on leave, you have to have someone with you, in case anything happens. I can't say how often this is followed stateside, aside from my experience that's the rule used, and on deployments its used because its a war zone generally. But for being stationed in Germany, *shrug*.

PMCS- preventative maintenance checks and services, they're done weekly regardless if the vehicle has moved, there's actually daily, weekly, monthly, yearly and then before and after operation checks. i hate them, they're a pain.


	7. Chapter 7

so, i'm gonna throw this out there, i'm an american, from the midwest, this is important to note because: it really skews my idea of a "long trip". i'd really noticed this in europe, when i did my study abroad in high school in south germany, the locals would complain that something was really far, a whopping half hour away. when i'd drive to school in the states, it was at least a half hour, depending on traffic i drive an hour to get to work every day, so a "long trip" for me is around 8 hours or more away, paris from k-town is maybe 5 hours, so to me, thats a reasonable weekend trip. this is going to be important coming up.

* * *

The week had drug by, life returning to normal as she fell back into routine. Wake up at zero dark thirty (04:30), get dressed, go to PT, shower, change into uniform, go to breakfast, arrive at the unit at 08:30, pretend to work, walk around with a folder of empty papers, take lunch at 11:30, hide from Top until 16:00.

When she wasn't shamming, she'd be texting Fleur. Their exchanges had moved on from friendly chats to more serious conversations, though Hermione still hadn't admitted to Fleur what it was she really did for a living.

In the evenings, she had started spending her free time attempting to learn French. She wanted to be able to speak with Fleur in her launguage, and what if her family didn't speak English? How would she talk to them? Or would they use that to speak badly about her in front of her?

She hadn't told the blonde what she was doing, it really didn't help that languages didn't come easily to her, and she was in Germany, so shouldn't that language be her priority? Hermione may have been slightly embarrassed about how taken she was by the blonde. Hannah had sensed her embarrassment and teased her relentlessly about it.

But today, today was Friday, and it was nearing 16:00 now. Hermione sat behind her 1960s looking wood laminate and chrome desk, scratching away at an olive green hardback notebook, army issued, plain cover. Black pen in hand, a light scribble across the thick white pages, she was copying over a list of which vehicles would be going out into the field with them the next week and any issues they may have.

A noise sounded down the hall, footsteps, the sounds of many pairs of boots clicking on cement floor, without thinking she got up, leaving everything as it was, grabbed her PC and took off running towards the sound.

An early formation, seemed like they may get out on time for once, she smiled to herself as she donned her PC and fell into her section, standing at attention.

A moment, and then "At EASE!" came the booming voice of Moody. He stood front and center, commanding the entire room with an authority that came with many years of service. His PC was wrinkled, in no way pristine like the majority of privates who had barely experienced any time on duty. Wrinkles that came after years of being thrown, crumpled up, soaked in the rain and wrung out, laying in the dirt, sopping up sweat and blood. It had seen things that many young soldiers could only dream of seeing, having existed longer than them, witnessing more pain and tragedy than they could imagine.

Moody began to pace, back and forth in front of the platoons, his booming voice carrying, filling the large garage they used, searching for signs of weakness within the group, eyes searching like a shark. He was a large brick of a man, stocky and well muscled, a product of the old Army. His grey hair was close cropped, shaven on the sides and barely existent on top, his face was scarred, a chip missing from his nose from an IED in Afghanistan. Scars on his arms and legs could be seen during PT, the accident had been bad, he was the only to survive. His blackened heart carried on with a vengeance, he'd earned the nickname "Mad Eye" afterwards. His eyes constantly moving, scanning for any sign of threat.

But he was fiercely protective, he trained and insisted on the best, pushing the lower enlisted to constantly train harder, be better so they would hopefully not have to experience the same things as him.

Hermione was only half listening, it was the same speech as it was every Friday. She was on autopilot, snapping back to attention before they were released for the weekend, her thoughts of what to do with the free time she had, plans of going to the bar that night, and tasks to do on Monday swam through her mind. Once dismissed, she pulled off her PC before going to lock up her cage, everything could stay exactly as it was, she was the only one with a key.

She met up with Hannah at the door.

"Hey battle," the blonde greeted cheerily, opening the door.

Hermione pulled on her PC before stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, "Hey, got any plans for the weekend?"

"Nope, was thinking I might catch up on some reading."

"Fun, fun, Zabini and Lovegood were going to the bar again, a local pub this time, wanna join?"

"Yeah, might as well, maybe I could meet someone as interesting as your girl," Hannah teased, elbowing Hermione, who had been practically unable to put her phone down all week, constantly sporting a stupid smile.

"Shut up!" Hermione couldn't help but say a bit too loudly as she pushed Hannah back with a little more force than had been used on her.

"Make me," the blonde stuck out her tongue, only to scream out in surprise as a body collided with hers and she soon made impact with the grass. The brunette had tackled her and was quickly trying to cover the blonde's mouth with her hand. Hoots and hollers from across the street met their ears as they sheepishly turned to see a group of men watching them and cheering at their antics.

Hermione scrambled to get off Hannah and regain a semblance of decency, holding out a hand to Hannah, helping her up before the two began laughing, they'd landed next to a small sign reading "Keep off the Grass".

"Alright, spill," Hannah said, a sudden seriousness in her voice.

"What?" Hermione feigned innocence.

"The girl, duh."

"There isn't much to say."

"Well, when are you gonna see her again?"

"Fuck if I know, she doesn't even know why I'm here yet."

"Shit... you think it'll bother her though?"

"I... don't know," Hermione bit her lower lip, a distant look overcoming her face, "She uh, she seems to value life so far. I don't know if she'd be okay with it."

"Well, it's not like you're infantry, you aren't directly responsible for killing anyone, and it's not like you've been deployed either."

"Yeah..." the brunette trailed off, an uncomfortable silence forming between the two of them, Hermione once again lost in thought as they walked back to the barracks.

* * *

Later that evening, the group of young soldiers was sat gathered around a small wooden table. It was in the back corner of the local pub, just off post, the entire place was filled with servicemen and women, all drinking and laughing and having a good time. Zabini, Lovegood, Hermione and Hannah were grouped around, each with a pint of beer in hand. There were a couple others that Hermione didn't know that had joined their group, she wished she could remember their names, but by her third pint, her brain was a bit sloshed and she would be lucky to remember what they were talking about. One was an unfortunately pale blonde boy whose longer hair by army standards was slicked back, he seemed a bit pretentious and off putting, and had insisted upon a "higher quality" beer, not one of the local swills as he put it. Hermione had to choke back a laugh when he'd said that since really, all beer tasted similar and it was all better than the stuff she'd grown up with.

He'd brought up his father multiple times already, supposedly he had some rank and was probably using it to protect the boy who looked like he'd never seen a day of work in his life. The brown haired boy next to him looked rather awkward Hermione thought, he certainly didn't seem the type for the military. She had her suspicions that he'd been bullied growing up and this was how he was going to prove himself. But aside from seeming out of place in the group, Hermione thought he wasn't really so bad, they could probably be friends, if only she could remember his name. He'd tried to buy her a drink originally, which she'd gotten a laugh at and suggested he pick someone else if he wanted to get laid.

He'd turned bright red at the suggestion, nodding sheepishly and turning his attentions to Lovegood who was lost in conversation with him now, some conspiracy theory that she was positive was fact.

Hermione's phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, widening her eyes at the screen in an attempt to focus as the device insisted on moving on its own. It took a couple of attempts, but she finally managed to unlock it to read the full text.

'Are you free tonight?'

Puzzled, Hermione texted back, 'Getting drinks with some coworkers, why?' (Or at least that was what she intended to say, it may not have looked so neat in reality).

'I missed you. And maybe I happen to be in town.'

Without thinking, or rather thinking with the wrong brain, she texted the name of the bar she was at to the Frenchwoman.

Hermione was on her fourth pint when the bar went silent. The mug was still raised to her mouth when she noticed that everyone seemed focused on the door. She lowered the glass as she turned to see what had stolen everyone's attention. A grin spread across her face as she yelled "Fleur!"

The blonde Frenchwoman turned to look at her, smiling as she did so. Hermione practically fell out of her seat as she stumbled to get up, staggering slightly as her feet tripped over themselves in her drunken haste. Fleur held a delicate hand up to cover her laugh at the uncoordinated antics of her American friend (or were they more?).

She was soon enveloped in a tight hug by the slightly smaller statured brunette, her wild curls now straightened and hanging at her shoulders. Fleur struggled to breathe, trying to pry herself from the bear hug, "'Mione, I cannot breathe," she wheezed out, causing the other woman to suddenly let go of her, a blush spreading across delicate features. She barely heard a mumbled 'sorry' before being pulled to a table of onlookers.

Slowly, the pub returned to normal, though it was obvious that the eyes of the men there were drawn to the foreign blonde. Hermione returned to her seat, and noticing that there weren't any available chairs, didn't hesitate to stake her claim on the newcomer, pulling Fleur onto her lap and wrapping her arms loosely around the blonde's waist.

"Holy shit, Granger," Zabini started, "Is this who you've been talkin' to all week?"

"Yeah," realizing herself (or remembering her manners), "Guys, this is Fleur, Fleur this is Zabini, Lovegood, Hannah, uhhh" she had pointed at each person as she said their names, pausing when she got to the last two whose names she couldn't remember.

"Draco," the blonde boy offered, holding his hand out to Fleur as though he wanted to shake her hand, though when she gave him her hand, he instead leaned forward kissing it lightly, "Pleased to meet you," he said giving what he thought would be a charming smile but was really more like a sneer. She quickly pulled back her hand, wiping it on her pants unashamed to hide the offense at his actions, to which the group laughed.

"Better luck next time!" Zabini laughed at Malfoy, who suddenly decided to feign disinterest in the blonde.

The other boy spoke softly, "I'm Neville, it's nice to meet you." He smiled tentatively before going back to his conversation with Lovegood.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the reviews :) also, to the time traveler that appeared and left a review on this chapter before it was posted, if you could send me my future chapters itd be appreciated :)

* * *

Hermione leaned into Fleur, whispering as quietly as she could managed in her drunken state, which sadly, was not below a normal conversational voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you not happy to see me?" The blonde questioned, turning to look at Hermione more easily, her brow furrowing at the accusatory tone used.

Realizing her mistake at how she phrased the question, Hermione momentarily panicked, "No! Erm, no, it's not that, I am, really, but isn't it a long trip for just a couple hours?"

Fleur's face fell, "Oh, I am sorry, I had not realized you worked on the weekends."

"I don't, but didn't you say you're just here for tonight?"

"Oui, but I could be persuaded to stay for longer," she said suggestively, leaning in and placing a tender kiss upon the brunette's lips, her fingers tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"Y-yeah," Hermione whispered, her breath stolen from her lungs, she nodded slightly, "but, uh... we should talk first." She lost what confidence she had gained from the alcohol and then some, she knew this conversation had to come at some point, but had hoped it wouldn't be so soon, or while she was drinking.

The already pale woman paled even more, hearing those dreaded words, she feared that she may have been too forward in her actions and scared the other woman off. Her heart clenched in her chest as thoughts began to race through her mind.

Her panic was evident as the other blonde in the group, Hannah? she thought her name may have been, leaned over and asked "Are you okay?"

A shaky, uncertain tilt of her head was given in response. Words seemed too difficult to use, just beyond her grasp, their sounds now unfamiliar to her.

A soft voice broke her trance, "Maybe, should we go somewhere more private?"

Fleur nodded, standing from her spot on Hermione's lap, she didn't want to be in front of a large group when she was dumped, cast aside like a piece of trash, just some holiday distraction and nothing more. The brunette stood, and grabbing her hand, pulled her out of the bar, a slight wobble to her step.

She sobered up quickly enough in the cool night air, the clear sky above filled with shimmering stars, illuminating the street before them. Cobblestones leaving shadows upon their neighbors, they walked along in near silence, conversations carrying from other groups out late.

A moment passed, but it felt like eternity, Fleur looked to Hermione, expectantly, waiting for her heart to be broken.

"I need to tell you why I'm really here."

"It is not for work?"

"It is. But, my work, it isn't what you think."

"Oh?" Now that the panic was beginning to fade, curiosity was beginning to overtake her.

"Yeah, I uh, I'm in the Army."

A small chuckle escaped from Fleur's lips, "Is that all?" She couldn't believe the big, bad secret was that Hermione was a soldier, it really wasn't that bad, not like her secret.

"No," the answer was short, the smaller woman stopped walking, turning to face Fleur, gripping her hands between her own, "I'm deploying soon."

"Deploying?" The Frenchwoman was unfamiliar with the term, knowing nothing about the army, she did not understand why Hermione had been so secretive about her occupation. A look of confusion had swept across her face.

"Oh, uh, going to war," The younger woman clarified.

The news hit her like a ton of bricks. The air escaped her lungs, it felt impossible to breathe, she froze in the moment. Flashbacks of the wizarding war came to mind, the deaths of friends, loss of family, having to do unspeakable things. She began to panic once again, suddenly wishing it really was just a breakup conversation.

Hermione continued, "I'd volunteered a while ago, forgot about it really, but they told me a couple days ago. I'll be getting attached to another unit."

"H-how long?"

"It's a nine month tour, but I'll be gone for almost a year."

"No, no, how long until you leave?"

"Oh, uh, three months."

Tears threatened to spill as she felt two strong arms wrap around her. She choked out a sob, her chest constricting once again.

"I'll be okay, promise."

"How can you promise such a thing?" She remembered the last time someone had promised they'd be okay, she had to identify their body days later when it was located. It had been mangled beyond belief, small and unseemly, no longer the muscular powerhouse he'd been before. His red hair hanging limply, splayed out on the rocky ground, contrasting starkly with the dark gray and pale white surrounding it. She'd fallen, her knees going weak when she saw the figure, every bit of strength she'd had vanished on recognition. Someone, she was unsure who, had pried her away from the body, and she'd curled into them, tears escaping her eyes in thick drops, depression overtaking her. It wasn't until days later that she'd finally come to.

A small smile, "It's only Kuwait, it's not like a real deployment."

"But it is still war?"

"Yeah, but only like... technically, just like..." she thought for a moment, looking to the side, "a tomato is technically a fruit right? But nobody puts it in a fruit salad. Kuwait is a deployment technically because I'm away from home, but we aren't fighting there so it's not actually dangerous."

Hermione looked at Fleur, watching her carefully, hoping she'd understand. Fleur nodded in agreement, still confused by the issue, but not wanting to drag it out any longer, she'd have to figure out more later.

"It's getting late," Hermione started, "I've got to be getting back soon, it's almost curfew, where are you staying? I'll walk you back."

"Oh uhm," Fleur looked away shyly, a slight blush coloring her features, "I had hoped I could stay with you,"

"I would love that," Hermione had to remind herself not to sound so eager, "But, two problems, I've got a roommate, and while I don't think she would mind, we'd definitely have to keep our hands to ourselves, and the second problem, you'd have to sneak in, overnight guests aren't allowed."

"You mean I'd have to sneak in through the window like some sex-starved teenage boy?"

Hermione looked down, feeling awkward with the comparison Fleur had just made, a quiet "Yeah" escaped her lips.

"Merde, I have never been reduced to such... such..."

Hermione cut her off as the blonde searched for words, "You don't have to, really, I'd understand if you wanted to get a hotel room, or go back home." She barely whispered the last words, hoping the blonde would stay, but she couldn't force her to and presented the option.

"Non, I will stay," she was already planning on using her magic to get up to the window of the brunette's room, hopefully nobody would see her, though if others were nearby she could use a simple disillusionment charm until she made it to the window.

Hermione smiled, though it was mostly to herself, as she imagined the blonde attempting to climb a brick wall, there was something entertaining about the fact that grown adults had been reduced to sneaking about like sex starved teenagers as the blonde had put it. She began to lead the taller woman back towards the gate, her right arm wrapped confidently around Fleur's waist.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them, or at least, it seemed comfortable for Hermione. Fleur's thoughts were still back with their conversation, thinking about how Hermione would soon be leaving, how she may never see her again, she wasn't sure if she could handle another loss in her life. The other woman hadn't left her, yet, but she assumed it would only be a matter of time, the fewer loose ends the better. And would she return after her deployment? The word still tasted unfamiliar on her tongue, giving her a moment's pause, she had so many questions but was afraid to ask them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the brunette. She was looking at Fleur expectantly, and the French woman took in her surroundings, they'd arrived at a gate, small brown shacks brightly lit from the inside sat on either side of the white and yellow bar that ran across the path. Two men in uniform stood outside, rifles slung over their shoulders and black vests designating them as military police in white letters across the front and back stood there, illuminated by the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

"ID?" Hermione asked again, noting Fleur's inaction. "It can be kind of intimidating the first time," she added, "but it's not that bad."

Apparently, she wasn't done panicking just yet, Fleur wished this night would be done with surprises, the magical community didn't use IDs like the muggles, they could be identified by their wands, and while some had gotten official IDs, depending upon how closely they were involved with the muggle world, she'd never had use of such a thing coming from a purely magical family. How could she explain this to Hermione?

She couldn't just break the International Statute of Secrecy, there was no need for that, no one was in danger, and surely there was no magical entrance. She thought as hard as she could to find a way in without breaking the rules, she couldn't just disappear, and while she could get past the guards easily enough, it would seem suspicious to Hermione. Fleur was at a loss for a solution.

"Fleur?"

"I-I don't have one," the witch confided.

"You don't? Have an ID?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the confession, "How do you not have one?"

Fleur shrugged, "I just haven't needed one."

"You haven't needed one? Ever? In your entire life? How did you get a job? Or rent an apartment? Wait, you aren't still living with family are you?"

Questions began to pour from Hermione, the revelation blowing her mind as she'd had an ID ever since she was 14, "Or what about a bank account? Doesn't your government require you show proof for stuff like alcohol and cigarettes?"

Fleur had not been expecting the bombardment of questions and laughed nervously, she wasn't expecting that train of thought from the other woman, she began attempting to answer the questions as best she could, "No, I haven't needed one, I have no job, and I do live in one of my family's former vacation homes, I believe the government requires ID for such stuff, but I could not say."

"Shit, beautiful and rich? Why are you wasting your time talking to me and not, I don't know, travelling the world, relaxing on some beach somewhere?" Hermione gestured about, waving her arms as she said the last part, there was no reason for the gorgeous woman in front of her to have even given her the time of day, and she really wasn't sure what stars had aligned that she had.

The momentary issue of no ID having been forgotten with these revelations, Fleur responded with another question, "Why are you so hard on yourself?" She was thankful for the change of topic, though she knew they'd have to return to it again, and sooner rather than later.

Hermione scoffed at the question, "Have you seen yourself? You could have anyone, not that I'm complaining, but really, you could, and I'm just a POG, nothing special."

"A what?"

"POG, uh..." Hermione paused, unsure how to describe it, "a uh, soldier, but not infantry, or special forces or anything."

"Oh."

"So, no ID or anything to verify who you are?"

The blonde shook her head in the negative.

"Fuck," Hermione muttered, one hand resting on her hip and the other running through long, brown locks. "I can't. There's no way, you won't be able to get on post without sneaking in, and if you're caught, they can shoot you. We can't risk it."

The way she spoke left no room for debate, and while Fleur knew she could make it without being caught, she couldn't risk exposing magic to the muggle world. She nodded, silently agreeing.

"You'll have to stay in a hotel until you have an ID." Another nod, she could always apparate back tomorrow, it wasn't difficult for an accomplished witch such as herself. Hopefully, Hermione wouldn't insist on being chivalrous and walking her to a hotel.

* * *

Side notes: Its true, Kuwait is called a deployment but as there isn't really any combat action, everybody says its not a real deployment, and you can volunteer to deploy. Depending on the mission, units will be selected but they have to meet a number, which after going through medical readiness and PT and life, many will be turned away, those numbers get replaced (or filled out) with volunteers from other units. When my unit was selected, we were told a year in advance it may or may not happen, the mission wasn't set yet, then we were told 3 months in advance it was happening. Those leaving were told about 3 weeks prior they'd met requirements and were for sure going to the next step. The next step being called "white cell" or "pre-mob" a one-month short mission in a similar environment to what the deployed environment is. Some can still be turned away at this stage if they don't meet requirements or are injured. Then 9 months is spent down-range (at the deployed location) and then another month or two back home to destress and decompress (and by back home, I mean in a non-combat location, but not actually 'home'). These'll be explored in upcoming chapters.

And deadly force is authorized for anyone trying to sneak onto post (unauthorized entry), there's nice large signs stating such at each entry point. ID is required.

POG stands for Position Other than Grunt, grunt being infantry only but special forces kinda gets a pass on the POG title (which is like... a put down? not really, like you don't want to be a POG, but 99% of the military is, I guess it'd be kinda like... calling someone retarded? it started off as an insult but lost most of its power with overuse?)


End file.
